


Rack My Mind (WIP)

by brodylover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Confession, Demonic Possession, First Kiss, Goodbye Stranger, Hurt/Comfort, Season gr8, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:04:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodylover/pseuds/brodylover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone asked for Possessed!Dean torturing Castiel and then a bit of love afterwards. Here you go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“WHERE IS IT?” Dean growled , his teeth gritted and phlegm splattering onto Cas’s face. The angel stared, mouth closed, looking into those brilliant green lies before him. This wasn’t Dean.  
One of the hunter’s hands were around his throat, just tight enough to keep him from breathing properly, the other was around the hilt of an angel blade, the one that Cas himself had given him. It was buried deep in Cas’s shoulder, making him moan and shudder. He twisted it and Cas screamed, his voice rattling the walls.  
They had been at this for hours, Cas strung up, chained in place with razor-wire and thin silver chains, his feet half a foot up from the ground. Some of the wire and been pressed through him, the metal sliding between bones and flesh, excruciating.  
His blood dripped into the carved lines in the cement floor, creating the angel binding sigil that was keeping him in place, keeping him useless. He was more exposed muscle, carved wounds, broken bones, and blood than he was pale skin anymore. Every part of him hurt, from his vessel to his true form, the wounds from his own blade piercing into him fully. He couldn’t move, couldn’t fight the pain without causing himself more, and he didn’t fight the screams that fell from his mouth.  
For each stab, each break, each wound was his penance. He deserved this and ten times this.  
What had he done? He had hurt Dean, lied to him, done the will of Heaven without a thought. He hadn’t been allowed to have a thought but that didn’t matter. He still hated himself for it, he still needed to atone. He had don e so much cruelty to the man in his charge, the man that he loved, his family, he needed to bleed and cry and scream until he had made up for it.  
As the demon sliced into him, over and over, draining him of his grace and blood, he did not beg. There were no “Dean please!”s and “This isn’t you, fight it!”s. There were screams and cries and pain. And he couldn’t tell if Dean was fighting it, couldn’t tell if he was trying to stop. He hoped that he wasn’t. That the demon would stay in control and hurt him and hurt him and hurt him until he couldn’t even scream anymore or heal himself with grace. He hoped that the demon wouldn’t stop until he was dead.  
And then he wanted more. He wanted Dean not to mourn his death. He wanted him to dump his treacherous vessel into a ditch somewhere, drive off without a second thought, leave him there to rot. He didn’t want Dean to waste his time thinking on Cas ever again.  
The demon grabbed his face though, dragging his thoughts back to the present as he shoved the blade into him once more, reaching all of the way through his shoulder, going out to the other side. He screamed and the demon was even bleeding from that. Dean was bleeding from that.  
“Just tell me where you hid the angel tablet.” The demon smiled, looking up at him. “This can all be over. I’ll let you go. Just as soon as you tell me.”  
Cas panted, whined and then gritted his teeth, his eyes scrunched closed as the demon pulled the blade back out. That was the last thing he needed, freedom from this torture. He needed it, needed to atone.  
Dean was on his tiptoes, the demon in him holding his face down so that he could get a better angle.  
“You know, I can see everything in Dean’s head. I can hear him screaming. He wants me to let you go. He forgives you. He says none of this was your fault. It was Naomi.” The demon told him in a sing song parody of Dean’s gruff voice, “I can see everything he’s hidden. From you. From himself. He loves you Cas. Loves it when you don’t understand, when you randomly appear at his side, everything about you.”  
Cas wanted to vanish, he wanted to cower and curl up in a ball. Demons lie. They lie and lie and lie. They mess with your head. He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want Dean to love him. He wanted Dean to stay away from him. He was weak and cowardly, a monster. Dean had been right to stab him when they had first met.  
The demon drew closer, “He loves the way you stare at him. He thinks these sad blue eyes are the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.”  
And the angel blade was pressed into one of those eyes, Cas was squirming and screaming as it cut through the nerves and tissues, as his eye socket filled with blood and the demon pulled his eye the rest of the way out, dropping it to the floor.  
Cas’ head was reeling, so much pain and blood loss that he couldn’t even think straight. He was close to collapsing, his body bleeding from a multitude of new gashes, his squirming having sliced his flesh on all of that razorwire.  
The hand did not leave his face though, just shifted to perk his lips.  
“Second to the eyes are the lips. He wonders what they’d taste like, how they’d feel, if he could ever get them less chapped.”  
He pressed the blade to his lips and Cas was whining. It was getting to be too much, the words about Dean being too much for him to take.  
The cut didn’t come. Cas opened his remaining eye. The demon was stopped, poised, blade pressed against skin. Then he stepped back, fear on his face.  
“Oh God, Cas. What did I do?” It was Dean. Dean had fought it off. The impossible righteous man had fought it off.  
He stepped back, taking the blade with him. Cas hung his head, the blood pouring from the hole his eye had been in. He needed more. He wasn’t done atoning yet.  
But Dean was muttering under his breath, exorcising himself, opening his mouth and screaming as the black smoke poured from his body. Even more impossible, he had exorcised himself.  
Then he was on Cas, unlocking the chains and unwrapping the razor-wire. His fingers were so soft, his grip delicate, and Cas gasped against him at the surprise of it, the need for more pain along with the ache of agony already dealt. Dean wouldn’t hurt him though; he pulled him away from the sigil and laid him out, holding him and staying with him.  
He was begging Cas to heal himself and the angel did what he could. He couldn’t cover all of the damage, but the worst of it was taken care of. As soon as his breath had regulated and the bleeding had stopped, the wounds just open, Dean was a bit more rough. His fingers were clutching, his lips were pressed hard against Cas’.  
Cas stiffened, tried to pull away and Dean let him, staring at him with a terrible blush spreading over his freckles.  
“Oh God Cas, I’m so sorry. I should have. I should have fought it. I should have stopped it from hurting you.”  
“No.” Cas’ voice was quiet, raspy from the damage he had done to his vessel’s vocal chords. “You shouldn’t have fought it. You should have let it hurt me, let it kill me. It’s what I deserve for hurting you.”  
The swelling liquid at the front of his reddened eyes fell, his face soaking in his tears. “No, Cas, don’t say that. You don’t deserve this. You did everything you could to fight Naomi. Did everything you could to protect me. You were supposed to kill me in that crypt, but you didn’t. There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.” He wiped the tears away, eyes back on Cas’ face, trying to ignore the ragged hole he had just cut, the eye still missing. “Wait. That’s not it, is it? Not all of it.”  
Cas couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t look away either. He closed the one he had left.  
“You don’t love me, do you Cas?” Dean asked, suddenly self conscious. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even touched you. I should have just kept hiding it.”  
Cas reached out, his fingers shaky as touched Dean’s cheek. The man flinched at it. It hadn’t been long enough since the punches had fallen there for him to be comfortable with the touch. Still, Cas led him to look at him once more.  
“I don’t think I would understand how to love anyone other than you, Dean.” Cas admitted, “Since I met you. I wouldn’t have stayed, wouldn’t have been so disloyal to Heaven, if I felt any differently.”  
Dean was crying all over again, although now he was smiling, a bit confused, patting down Cas’s nude body, looking for purchase. “Are you… Are you sure?”  
“Dean.” Cas was clutching at the human, needing care and love and satisfaction, but above all, rest, “I have not been so sure of something in a long time.”  
Dean kissed him again, softer and needier, giving Cas the love that he’d been storing inside of him for so long. He wrapped his arms around him, lifted him up, and carried him to the Impala. Sam was unconscious, lying beside the car, where the demon had left him after smacking his head against the framework. The Impala was dented, but Sam was bleeding.  
“After all this, I still have to sit in the back?” Cas complained as Dea lay him down in the back, pulling out a blanket from his duffel bag and laying it over the gashed open angel.  
Dean leaned forward, kissed Cas’s forehead, and smiled, “You can zap Sam into the backseat anytime you want to once you’re up and moving about again, okay?”  
He was pulling back but Cas grabbed the lapels of his blood soaked coat, pulling him down so he could kiss his lips once more. “You have to deal with the puppy dog eyes though.”  
Dean whined against his lips, “No one’s immune to Sammy’s puppy dog eyes.”  
“He’s going to need a hospital.”  
“He’s got you. Once you’re all better, you can fix him up. I know you said he’s too damaged but…”  
“I’ll do what I can.”  
Dean smiled more broadly, an expression he didn’t wear often, and left Cas, working on getting his huge brother into the Impala so he could drive all the way back to the batcave.


	2. Chapter 2

The blood wouldn’t come out. The Grace wouldn’t come out. It was dirty. Dean scrubbed and scrubbed unable to get the deep stains out of his coat. The stains of what he’d done, what he’d done to the angel over and over again, the blood that Cas had given him time and time again. He just wanted Cas to stop bleeding.   
He abandoned the coat in the sink, letting it soak in the cold water.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam’s head hurt. He had a concussion and some swelling and he’d done everything he could to restrain it, but nothing was really working.  
Everything hurt though. His veins burned under the skin. His lungs hurt as they tore themselves apart and filled with blood. His throat was sore from coughing, his chest felt like it was going to implode, everything felt constricted. And still, he was coughing, blood spraying from his lips into the tissues he had learned to keep on him at all times.  
He just wanted to sleep. He was in his bed, third day after Dean had attacked him, curled in on himself, covered in blankets. Dean had come in a few times, brought him food, which he could hardly stomach, and check up on him. He kept saying that he was alright. He didn’t feel alright. He wanted to sleep forever.


	4. Chapter 4

Cas wouldn't speak. He would hardly eat. He was sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms, blankets covering all of him. He would not react when Dean entered the room more than just curl in on himself, pulling the blankets in tighter over his head.   
He was doing nothing but healing.   
He was building new parts, new tissues and skins and bones and nerves. Normally he would be quick with his work, but his grace had been torn from him along with everything else. Now it was took all of his concentration to put everything back together.   
He doubted he would ever finish or heal. He wasn't sure if he wanted to.   
He wanted the scars on his skin, wanted his sins visible. He did not deserve Dean's proclamations of love and forgiveness.


End file.
